The surf has been rough for a few days. It’s not yet “season,” which means there are no lifeguards regularly on duty. So, the flags are not usually flying along the beach. If there had been flags this week, they would have been red. The undertow and riptides are clearly dangerous. The seas have been multi-hued and patterned. Breathtaking. The tides have been so high that the beach clubs have all pulled in their first two or three rows of lounge chairs, which were all swamped yesterday afternoon. The first six photos below were taken yesterday from our terrace. (Click any image for high tide.)
San Geraldo and I took a walk yesterday afternoon. The surf was wild. It was completely overwhelming the fishing jetty not far from the port. We walked out toward the stone jetty for a closer look, but not close enough to be at risk.
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NO FISHING… |
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NO STROLLING. NO SITTING. |
As we marveled at the sea’s power and beauty, a guy swaggered out on the jetty. He was lucky he wasn’t swept onto the rocks. There was an instructor leading a group of surfers in a nearby bay who called from the water to warn him off. He was ignored. Finally, the jerk strutted proudly by us, chuckling as he went. He seemed disappointed when no one applauded him for his outstanding stupidity. Who, I wondered, would have risked his own skin to fish this guy out of the water?
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AND THEN ALONG COMES TONTÍN. |
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ON THE EDGE… |
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BARELY KEEPING HIS FOOTING… |
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ABOUT TO HEAD HOME. |
The sun comes and goes today, so the sea is constantly changing color. The final six photos were taken a short time ago over a period of perhaps four minutes.
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Author: Moving with Mitchell
From Brooklyn, New York; to North Massapequa; back to Brooklyn; Brockport, New York; back to Brooklyn... To Boston, Massachusetts, where I met Jerry... To Marina del Rey, California; Washington, DC; New Haven and Guilford, Connecticut; San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs, and Santa Barbara, California; Las Vegas, Nevada; Irvine, California; Sevilla, Spain. And Fuengirola, Málaga..
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